


Bartender!Sam and Hunter!Dean Verse

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, First Time, Mpreg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-06
Updated: 2009-05-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam is a bartender and Dean is a hunter.  They meet and they have their way with each other (a little twist at the end).A/N:  This was the story that was fomerly entitled "Give Me A Tall Drink Of Sammy".  I actually have two sequels, a prequel called "how you and me became us" as well as some snapshots.  I apologise for the confusion but I've figured out that I need to post all those stories under this main post since they're all in the same universe.  Hence, the status of this verse will change to incomplete (since the sequel is incomplete).  Also the warnings will change to include everything that is in all the stories listed under  this verse.  Indication of Mpreg at the end of first sequel and full blown mpreg in second sequel (more info on story notes).





	1. "Give Me A Tall Drink of Sammy"

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This entire universe began with a pwp fic that was written for kiraynn. The prompt was "bartender!sam and hunter!dean, storage sex". As a result, "give me a tall drink of sammy" came to being and expanded into a big universe that I had not expected to. "How You and Me Became Us", the Prequel, shows how the boys came together. We start with Sam aged 5 and Dean aged 9. Followed by Sam 7 and Dean 11 (this is joined with Sam 5 and Dean 9). Then Sam 11 and Dean15. From there Sam 15 and Dean 19 ending with Sam 18 and Dean 22.
> 
> The Sequel "married life" follows directly after "Give Me a Tall Drink of Sammy" and right at the very end indicates mpreg. "And Then There Were Three" is the pregnancy.

  
Author's notes: **Here, Sam and Dean are not related. Bobby is Sam's father and Dean is John's. Beta'd by stacyleanne.**  


* * *

***

 

 

Friday nights were the busiest at the “Roadhouse”, every customer waiting to drink their long week away in their choice of beverage, talking to their co-workers about nothing and everything, just having a good time before they hit the weekend to recover. 

 

 

Sam was buried in orders coming in from one end to the other, he was surprised he could get the right drinks to the right customers. His father was also working the bar on his right, an old pro in the business. Since Sam’s mother Evelyn died when giving birth to him, his father had raised him on his own and Sam couldn’t be more grateful. He’d never say it out loud but Bobby Singer was the best dad in the world. 

 

 

Sam was lost in his thoughts of gratitude towards his father until he was smacked by the man in question on the head. “Sam! What the hell are you staring at? Get serving.” He pouted a little at his father while his right hand gently rubbed where he had been hit with more force then necessary. “Don’t you give me that hurt puppy look Samuel Singer, you were procrastinating. You got work to do, so get going!” his father sternly told him.

 

 

It was hectic to say the least but Sam loved the vibrant atmosphere of the bar, warm and inviting, people laughing and joking, everyone happily buzzed. He loved to talk to customers when he had the chance, asking how their day was, what they were up to on the weekend. There were regulars too so some of them Sam knew by their first name.

 

 

Everything passed in a blur for him as the night progressed, constantly occupied with serving, wiping down the counter and waiting on occasion when one of the waitresses took their breaks. 

 

 

However, throughout the entire night, he couldn’t shake this feeling of being watched. But every time he turned to where he thought the intense gaze he had came from, he found nothing but a crowd of people lost in their own drinks and company. He shook his head and let it go. Sam convinced himself it must be due to the late nights he’d been working at the bar for the last week.

 

 

When closing time came at midnight, Sam was leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to stand up straight. His father had locked the entrance and was now wiping down the tables and lifting the stools up as he went, quickly moving systematically from one table to the next. Bobby made his way to his son, when he finished wiping down the last table.

 

 

Sam was now resting his head on his crossed forearms on the counter, ready to sleep. “You tired, kiddo?” his father gently spoke, while affectionately ruffling his hair, smiling when he heard Sam grunt in response. 

 

 

“I need you to get whatever bottles we’re out on out here from the storage and replace them with full ones before you call it a night.” Sam shifted his head under his father’s hand and lifted himself up. Stretching both his arms above his head as far as possible and popping his back, Sam nodded sleepily. “Sure, I’ll do the rest, you go on home, you’re not as young as you use to be.”

 

 

His father made a mock shocked face, “I can still beat you anyday kiddo, in strength and stamina."

 

 

Sam snort - chuckled, “Says the man who nearly broke his back, lifting a crate of beer bottles."

 

 

His father took a playful swipe at his head but Sam ducked and quickly made his way to the back storage room. He heard his father shout out,“Just for that, you’re coming in first thing in the morning and mopping the floor!"

 

 

“I hear you old man! Now go on home before I have to carry you there!" Sam shouted back and opened the door to the storage room. 

 

 

He was so absorbed in rummaging through the stock for Jose Cuervo that he didn’t hear the door behind him gently opening to let a lone figure enter into the room. Sam only became aware of the other person’s presence when he heard the soft click of the storage door being locked.

 

 

When he looked up, there stood with his back against the door, one of the most gorgeous man Sam had ever laid eyes on. He was few inches shorter than him but then everyone was shorter than his unnaturally tall frame. But to compensate, he had a very strong build from what he could tell. He had short dark blond hair, roughly styled that gave the “I just woke up” look, sharp angular face with full luscious lips that he wouldn't mind sucking on. Light freckles scattered across his face but the man's piercing emerald green eyes was the most captivating feature of all. He was giving Sam a lazy lopsided grin that had him melting a little inside.

 

 

He straightened up and smiled at the stranger.“What can I do for you? The bar is already closed so I can’t serve you any drinks.”

 

 

The handsome stranger moved forward, getting closer to Sam step by step, he smirked.“I’m not here for a drink."

 

 

Sam naturally stepped back as the stranger drew closer with each step. “Oh? Then what do you want?”

 

 

Since the room itself was small and compact, the stranger was now standing merely few inches from him as Sam’s back hit the concrete wall. The man leaned in close, their noses almost touching and whispered huskily, "You."

 

 

Sam could feel his own body thrumming with excitement, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart beating a mile a minute. This close, he could smell the man’s cheap cologne mixed with the scent of soap and leather from his jacket, making Sam heady and dangerously high. 

 

 

He looked down at the shorter man and defiantly stated “I don’t fuck with strangers.” Sam then moved his hands to push the man away to get out of the storage room but he was roughly slammed back against the wall, both his wrists pinned to either side of his head by two strong calloused hands.

 

 

The stranger drew close, his lips hovering just above Sam’s soft pink lips. “Nice try kid, you’re not goin' anywhere. I’ve been watching you all night tonight and I ain’t gonna let go that easy.” 

 

 

Sam realised that the man standing in front of him was the culprit behind the gaze that had stalked him throughout the entire night. Without warning, the stranger leaned forward and claimed Sam’s lips in an aggressive kiss. There was no finesse, just plundering and taking as he forced Sam's lips to open wide. The stranger roughly pushed his thigh in between his legs and grinded it hard against his crotch. 

 

 

Obviously Sam gasped in shock and that was all the chance the stranger needed to dive in deeper, stroking every surface he’s eager tongue could reach.

 

 

Sam fought to break the man’s hold on his wrists but it wouldn't budge. The stranger was smaller than him but he was built like a machine. Sam could feel the hard plains of the man’s stomach and his chiseled chest as he grinded not only his thigh now but his entire body against Sam. The stranger was in top physique and even though Sam was toned and lean himself, he was no match in strength to this guy.

 

 

When the stranger finally released Sam’s lips and moved to maul his neck, Sam flinched from the sharp bites and unconsciously tilted his neck for the stranger to give better access. “I ...I told you, I don’t fuck strangers.” Sam breathed out the words, already out of breath just from being rutted against and kissed.

 

 

The stranger stopped his onslaught on Sam’s neck for a brief moment and spoke into his abused skin, “I’m Dean, you ?”

 

 

Sam was confused by the sudden and frankly out of place introduction but he replied just to amuse his attacker: “Sam.” 

 

 

Dean then looked up to Sam, his eyes feral and wild with his lips curving into a devious grin. “Now that we’re not strangers, can we fuck?”

 

 

Before Sam could string two words to reply that question, the man released Sam’s wrists, now red and tender from his grip, and used those very hands to rip Sam’s favorite blue botton up shirt open. The sounds of the broken buttons hitting the concrete floor echoed in the silent room. 

 

 

Using Sam’s surprised state to his advantage, Dean flipped him to face the wall, pulling down the mangled material to tie Sam’s hand behind his back. The bartender shivered from the initial contact as his chest hit the cold concrete wall. Turning his head to the side, he tried to push away from the wall but with his arms bound, he didn't have the leverage to do so. All he could do was arch his back to accommodate the awkward position of not having anything but his body to support him against the wall.

 

 

Sam could feel Dean kissing the skin between his shoulder blades and gradually moving up to Sam’s left shoulder then to his neck, sucking on the throbbing pulse. When he moved to his ear, he dipped the tip of his tongue inside, repedatedly licking and biting the flesh there until Sam was shaking.

 

 

“Damn, Sam, I wanna fuck you against this wall, would you like that? Me taking your sweet little ass, licking it open and fucking you hard?” Dean’s heated breath ghosted over his spit slick ear. Sam's dick twitched in excitement just from hearing the dark promise of things to come.

 

 

Sam craned his head a little to Dean’s direction and locked his lust dazed eyes with dark black ones, hunger and want evident in both their eyes. Sam coyly smiled. “You’re all talk but I’m not seeing any action here.” 

 

 

Dean growled like a caged animal waiting to be released and leaned in close, giving Sam’s cheek a one long lick with his tongue. “Watch me, bitch. ” Sam couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his traitorous lips as one of Dean’s hands gripped his now half hard erection tightly while the other hand undid his belt and jeans. 

 

 

In no time, Sam was butt naked with his jeans and underwear pooled around one of his ankles while the other was released from its confines to spread his legs wider. Dean had now moved down to his ass, spreading his two firm globes apart to reveal Sam’s most private place, his pink puckered hole. Dean dove right in, his tactile tongue licking and probing into Sam’s hole. Once in a while Dean would place his mouth on his hole and suck like a Hoover, leaving the bartender weak and trembling. Combine that with Dean’s gentle strokes of Sam’s now almost full erection between his legs, had Sam quickly losing himself in ecstasy, moaning louder for more.

 

 

He jumped when he felt Dean’s finger enter his now very well drenched hole alongside the probing tongue. The single digit was going deeper then a tongue was physically capable of doing, opening Sam wider than before. Soon, two other fingers joined and Sam was being thoroughly finger fucked, the knowing fingers scissoring his hole in search of that special place. 

 

 

Dean smiled when Sam jolted and clenched down his muscles tightly against his fingers, letting him know that he had found his prostate. Dean rubbed the bundle of nerves again and again, with each stroke, Sam’s whining becoming higher and higher. Shamelessly, he tilted his ass out more to swallow down the fingers and that was a sight that had Dean’s hips moving forward. 

 

 

He needed to fuck Sam. Now.

 

 

Satisfied that Sam’s hole was loose and wet enough to take his cock, Dean stood up and took off his suffocatingly thick leather jacket. Taking out a condom and lube from the back pockets of his jeans, he quickly prepared himself. He shoved down his underwear and jeans just enough for his cock to spring free then rolled down the condom, followed by a liberal amount of lube. 

 

 

Dean’s already granite hard cock jumped when he saw Sam in his entirety. He was leaning heavily against the wall, his face turned to his side with disheveled hair hiding his eyes. But he could see the plump lips, red from biting. His golden sun-kissed skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and flushed into a dark shade of pink. His ass was still tilted outwards, all modesty gone. The red puckered hole glistened with saliva and Dean could see the tiny ring of muscles flexing, ready to take whatever he offered. Sam truly was a portrait of pure sin and debauchery. 

 

 

Wasting no time, Dean moulded himself to the bartender's back and slid his left hand to the man's lower abdomen and guided him backwards to his own cock until the crown was nudging at Sam’s entrance. He tongued Sam’s ear and whispered low, “You ready for this?”

 

 

Sam had no chance to answer as Dean surged forward, forcing himself inside in one swift motion, not stopping till he was buried deep to the hilt. Sam’s mouth opened in a voiceless scream, his neck arching back beautifully. 

 

 

Dean didn’t wait for the bartender to adjust to his thick long cock, he started to move immediately, his hips drove into Sam fast and hard at a furious pace. The slap slap sound of skin on skin and the ragged breathes of both men filled the room. With Sam’s hand tied at the back, it was impossible for Dean to get close to the other man like he wanted to. 

 

 

With a frustrated growl, he undid Sam’s wrists which automatically went to brace themselves against the wall as Dean wrapped himself tightly around Sam and snapped his hips harder, brutally opening Sam’s tight hole with his pulsing cock.

 

 

All Sam could do as Dean continued to pound inside of him was to take everything he gave, keening every time Dean hit his prostate with a fierce thrust. He felt a dull pain as Dean bit into his neck, his sharp canines sinking into the flesh. Dean’s calloused hands moved up and down Sam’s sides and front caressing his already over stimulated skin but never touching his aching cock that was now furiously leaking, begging to be touched. 

 

 

Sam’s fingers clawed at the concrete wall as Dean pulled his head back with a firm grip in his hair, titling his head to the side to plunge his own tongue inside the bartender's slack open mouth. Dean's tongue ravaged the insides of the hot cavern as his hips incessantly pressed into Sam below in short quick thrusts, grinding his cock against Sam’s already battered prostate every time he plunged back inside.

 

 

Just when Sam was about to reach down to his own cock that had been neglected far too long, he felt Dean pull out of him completely and turn him around to face him. Dean then pulled Sam’s left leg up, holding it tightly around his waist and then he pushed back inside again, never losing his rhythm from before and pounding into Sam fast and hard as if he’d never left. 

 

 

This time Sam screamed and scrambled for purchase, his arms wrapping themselves around Dean’s neck as he was drilled into the wall with every punishing thrust. His back was going to be bruised but he didn’t care anymore, his cock was finally getting the much needed friction from Dean’s clothe covered stomach every time he rocked into Sam. Dean was panting hard into Sam’s ear. "Fuck, Sammy, you’re so tight and hot. You were made for me to fuck, baby.” 

 

 

Sam had lost the ability to talk long time ago and all he could manage was to shout, “Ah! Dean...Dean!” into the ceiling. 

 

 

Dean silenced him with his mouth, taking every moan and whimper Sam released into his own as their tongues entwined in a passionate dance. Sam could tell Dean was close by the way he was now hitting his prostate on every thrust, fully intending to make him come before Dean came himself. 

 

 

It worked. 

 

 

Before Sam knew what was happening, he felt the all too familiar tingling feeling in his balls and a white flash of light across his vision as he painted his stomach and Dean’s t-shirt with his own release. Dean dragged Sam’s limp form down the wall to the ground, positioning him in his lap then delivered few more powerful thrusts into the pliant body before releasing his own come inside the condom, his hips still jerking into Sam as he rode out his orgasm.

 

 

Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead against Sam’s collarbone as Sam leaned heavily back against the wall, both still too wiped out to speak. 

 

 

As their harsh pants settled to even breaths, Dean spoke first. He lifted his head and looked into Sam’s still dazed and glassy eyes, “So Sammy, should you be fucking a complete stranger when you’re married?” Dean lifted Sam’s left hand to his lips and kissed the silver ring there on his wedding finger.

 

 

Sam chuckled, his voice still hoarse and raw. "I don’t think he’d mind, he’s always going on road trips for work, comes back every few weeks to see me but that’s it."

 

 

Dean was now kissing Sam’s left wrist, bruised from being tied. "He sounds like a bastard."

 

 

The bartender leaned forward, his right arm finding it’s way behind Dean’s neck.“Yeah, but he’s such a good fuck and to tell you the truth, I love the bastard.” He then leaned forward, kissing Dean nice and slow, his tongue stroking in languid motion.

 

 

When Sam pulled back, Dean’s eyes were glinting dangerously filled with dark promises, ready to make up for the last three weeks they hadn’t been together since he left to hunt a werewolf in New Orleans. 

 

 

Sam kissed the side of Dean’s mouth and gave a genuinely happy smile.“Welcome home, baby.”

 

 

Dean smiled back, pulling Sam closer again to his lips. “It’s good to be back.” He then proceeded to kiss his husband breathless and his cock stirred again in interest, still deeply embedded in Sam. 

 

 

“Dean…” Sam weakly warned as he felt his husband’s cock coming to life inside of him.

 

 

“Just one more time, Sammy, then we go home and make good use of our king sized bed." Dean bit into Sam’s nipple, rolling his tongue over the hardening nub. Sam whimpered and arched back, offering more of his chest for his husband to lick. 

 

 

He lifted Sam’s hip up for a few seconds, just to take off the condom so that this time, they had nothing between them. When Dean was snuggly back inside of Sam again, his husband gave his approval by rocking his hips and clamping down on his now pulsing cock, full and ready.

 

 

Sam teasingly whispered into Dean’s ear, “Okay, but this time, I ride.” and with that said he started to move his hips in the most delicious ways. 

 

 

The last thought Dean had before he lost himself in the scorching tight heat was “Damn. It’s good to be home."

 

 

 

 

The End.


	2. "The Married Life"

  
Author's notes: Beta'd by siubhlach and crayzee_gal. Lots and Lots of sex. Featuring sexedup!Dean, bow-legged!Sam and stunned Bobby and John :). NC17 all the way for this sequel!  


* * *

*** 

 

“Dean…I can’t … Ah!” Sam arched his back as Dean’s calloused hand stripped his already raw dick that twitched to harden again but with great difficulty, after having climaxed less then ten minutes ago. 

 

 

This was crazy. The digital clock on the bed side table blinked “3:00AM”, the start of the third day since Dean had returned from his three week hunt. He had lost count of just how many times Dean had made him come – Hell, he could barely remember his own name! But Dean showed no signs of stopping. 

 

 

It had all started at the storage room in his dad’s bar where Dean had surprised him with a role play sex. After a rigorous riding in Dean’s lap, Sam had collapsed on top of him, completely sated and drained. His husband wasted no time and dragged his limp body out into the Impala to drive them home. It hadn’t taken long for Sam to fall asleep in the passenger side while Dean drove them back in record time, undoubtedly breaking every speed limit. Upon reaching their house, Dean had hauled his body over his shoulder in a fireman carry like he weighed nothing and took him into the house. Before his dazed brain knew where he was, his husband had him laid out on their Californian king sized bed, naked as the day he was born. From there, the fuck marathon had begun and it wasn’t even close to finishing from how hard Dean was, still embedded deep inside him. 

 

 

With no barrier between them, Sam’s battered hole was filled over and over again with Dean’s release and he could feel the viscous fluid dribble down his thighs. The solid frame pressed behind him had his own body gravitating toward it like a magnet, his arms and legs straining to keep himself up on all fours. Their sweat soaked bodies glided against one another as Dean continued his relentless pace. His body jolted with every thrust Dean delivered as his thighs trembled uncontrollably, threatening to give in at any minute. Sam wasn’t sure how long he could handle this torture. It was all too much. The unbearable heat from behind, the damp air that clung to his body, the heavy scent of come, sweat and leather, the hot ragged breath fanning across his cheek as Dean nuzzled against it. He felt like he was drowning.

 

 

With a small nip to Sam’s ear, the older man murmured against it, rich and smooth. “Just a little longer baby, I promise this…” 

 

 

But before Dean could finish his sentence, Sam’s arms finally gave out, bringing his face and chest down onto the bed with a soft thud. With Sam’s smooth ass tilted upwards, Dean had a clear view of the puffy red hole spread wide around his thick girth. Losing all self-control, Dean pounded into Sam fast and furious, with such vigor that the bed shook with every push forward, the headboard hitting the wall rhythmically. The younger man buried his face into the sheets as small whimpers escaped his lips. The moment he felt Dean stiffen behind him and drench his hole with thick spurts of his come yet again, he clutched onto the sheets and released a relived sigh. He hadn’t come himself but he didn’t care (he was only half hard anyway), all he wanted was to sleep with Dean unconscious beside him. 

 

 

Unfortunately, the older man had other ideas. Before Sam could protest at being manhandled, he found himself flipped on to his back and his limbs spread eagled. Dean’s eyes were feral, emerald greens blazing with hunger that obviously couldn’t be sated. When he saw the pulsing member, hard and ready between Dean’s legs, Sam nervously licked his swollen red lips and attempted to drag his tired body away from his husband. This wasn’t natural. He’d admit that Dean had huge sexual appetite but even he couldn’t go three days straight and have a recovery time of nano-seconds. Two strong hands grasped onto Sam’s thighs, pulling the younger man into his husband’s lap and effectively preventing any escape. 

 

 

Exhausted, Sam whimpered weakly. “No, Dean...baby stop. I can’t…”

 

 

Dean cut him off by leaning forward, stopping only mere inches away from his face. With a heavy breath, he desperately pleaded. “Sammy, I want more. I’m burning up here. I’m gonna go insane if I don’t have you. Please baby, I need you.”

 

 

Hearing the pure need in Dean’s voice, Sam found himself nodding in consent. His husband never begged. He teased, he seduced, he flirted but he never ever begged. Something was definitely wrong but before he could make heads or tails of what the hell was going on, Sam felt the steel hard dick open him once more, the throbbing member scorching his insides. At that moment, all thoughts were thrown out the window, his focus narrowed to the man who was buried deep inside of him.

 

 

***

 

 

Hours had passed by the time Sam regained consciousness. The bedside clock displayed “12:00pm” and the room was warm from the midday sun seeping through the forest green curtains. In the end, Dean hadn’t stopped till six in the morning and Sam had blacked out the minute he had come one last time. The grumbling roar of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten properly since lunchtime the day before; dinner had been cut short by Dean attacking him from behind and dragging him into their bedroom. Starving, Sam pushed himself up on his hands but immediately regretted it. Sharp pain traveled from the base of his spine all the way to his toes and fingers, his hips heavy from the dull ache below. With a pitiful groan, he collapsed face down into the pillows again. Several simulations of killing Dean ran through his mind but the minute he realized his body was completely clean and smelled like soap, his murderous thoughts left him and a small smile spread across his face instead. Dean may be a horn-dog and a sex addict but he did take care of him, that was a given. Slowly, Sam raised himself again and sat up, careful not to agitate his ass anymore then it already was. Perhaps investing in a donut pillow wasn’t such a bad idea, especially if Dean was going to be this enthusiastic after every hunt from now on.

 

 

Butt naked, Sam scanned the room for something to wear. Boxer shorts or any kind of pants that had the potential to cause friction against his swollen opening were out of question. His eyes landed on a bathrobe folded at the foot of the bed, most likely an item Dean stole from one of the motels he stayed in. Finding nothing else suitable to wear, Sam grabbed the robe and put it on. The material was worn out and too short for Sam’s tall frame, barely covering his thighs, but he was half decent and comfortable. On somewhat shaky legs, Sam stumbled out of the bedroom and slowly walked down the hall to the kitchen, using the wall for support. The mouth-watering smell of bacon and eggs filled the hallway, his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

 

 

When he finally entered the kitchen he found Dean standing at the stove dressed only in his faded jeans, serving up two plates of eggs and bacon. Four golden slices of toast sat at the centre of the round dining table with two cups of steaming coffee, one black and the other with milk. Another rumble from Sam’s stomach had Dean turning around with full plates in his hands. 

 

 

“Morning, Sunshine! Sit your ass down, breakfast…well, lunch is ready.” Sam was almost blinded by the beaming smile Dean was sending his way. Even after three years of marriage, it was still a mystery as to what Dean Winchester aka Mr. Sex-on-Legs saw in him, Sam Singer, the geek boy whose best friends were books. For that reason, he couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride in the pit of his stomach from knowing that he was the one who put that sated happy look on his husband’s face.

 

 

Not wanting to give Dean a big head for his sexual prowess (the man already knew he was fantastic in bed), Sam did his best to walk properly to the table and hide his bow-legged state. When he drew his usual chair out however, the hard wooden surface was covered with a soft cushion taken from the couch in the lounge. Without looking back from the fridge where he was scavenging for the ketchup, Dean chirped out. “Thought you’d need the extra support after last night Sammy.” 

 

 

Heat slowly crept up his face and Dean looked back just in time to catch him turning bright red. Avoiding eye contact with his husband, Sam carefully sat down on his chair and began to sip his coffee with milk. 

 

 

Even when Dean sat down next to him, Sam refused to look his way, turning his body away from his husband. He didn’t have to look at Dean to know that he was wearing one of his smug smiles. But when he felt Dean’s thigh and body intimately close to his, Sam snapped his head back to find Dean’s face right in front of him. Gone was the happy relaxed smile and back was the predatory smile with green eyes glowing dangerously. 

 

 

“What’s the matter Sammy, you know it’s the truth. That’s why you’re not wearing pants or underwear, right?”

 

 

Fully intending to retaliate with a smart remark of his own, Sam opened his mouth but no words came out as he felt Dean’s hand crawl up his right thigh and under the robe, making a direct beeline for his flaccid cock, still red and sensitive. That was when he remembered the last coherent thought he had before Dean fucked him into the mattress. With a firm grip around Dean’s wrist, he halted his husband’s wandering hand. 

 

 

“Wait Dean! Don’t you think this is weird? How you’re craving for sex 24/7?” 

 

 

“What’s so weird about it? We always have lots of sex when I come back.” There was honest confusion on Dean’s face. 

 

 

“Yeah, I know but not this much. It’s like you’re on some kind of freaky sex drive.” 

 

 

Far more interested in Sam’s slender neck then what he was saying, Dean leaned forward and nibbled on the supple flesh, the words that followed were mumbled against his skin. “So what if I’m on a freaky sex drive, I want you and you want me so it all works out. Now shut up and just enjoy the ride Sammy.” 

 

 

“But...” Dean swiftly moved from his neck to his mouth and muffled the younger man’s protests with his lips and tongue. His free hand sneaked around Sam’s back and just below his underarm, worming its way inside from the parted robe to tweak at Sam’s nipples, still bruised from the previous night’s activities. The surprise attack had Sam momentarily loosening his grip on Dean’s wrist, which gave the older man the chance to break free and continue with his exploration beneath the robe. 

 

 

Meanwhile Sam fought against the onslaught as best as he could by pushing Dean away from him but the fight was futile. There were two things Dean Winchester never ever failed in, one was his hunt and the other sex. He could woo Sam’s pants off with a snap of his fingers and since Sam wasn’t wearing any underwear at the moment, half the work was already done for him. Involuntarily, Sam’s legs spread open for Dean’s hand as he stroked him with long firm grip, roughly thumbing the slit. In no time, his dick was slick and wet from pre-come leaking furiously from the tip. When Dean was happy that his fingers were coated enough with the natural lube, he released his hold on Sam’s length, trailed his fingers behind the balls and blindly probed for the hole. The minute his fingers found the entrance, he dived in with two fingers like he couldn’t wait another second. 

 

 

From there things got heated. 

 

 

The slow tangling of tongue intensified with Dean pressing forward, rolling his tongue against Sam’s repeatedly, leaving no room for him to retaliate. The hand that had been abusing Sam’s nipples was moving frantically to pull down the robe from his shoulders and off his body. The finger below plunged in and out from the overused hole at an unforgiving pace. Sam gripped the edge of his chair with one hand while his other hand clutched at Dean’s denim covered thigh. Again, he found himself lost in Dean. His body and mind too overwhelmed by his husband’s heated touches and his sinful lips. At this rate, they were going to be spending another few hours between the sheets and Sam wasn’t sure if his body could physically take it.

 

 

A loud gasp drew both men out of their sex frenzy. Dean released his cherry red lips and turned his face to the archway that connected the kitchen to the hallway where the sound had come from. There stood Bobby and John with bulging eyes almost falling out of their sockets. For the next five minutes, all four men stared at each other in shock, each one of them not knowing what to do or say next. Sam made the first move, pulling Dean’s fingers out of himself and scrambling to cover himself as he stood up from the chair

 

 

“Hey Dad! John! What are you doing here? I thought you had the day time shift today Dad?”

 

 

After what felt like an eternity, Bobby shut his slack jaws and answered his son, his brain finally remembering that he could talk. “I um…left Ash in charge because John here came to visit, wanting to catch up with both of you boys since he was back in town for a few days, right John?” 

 

 

All three men cast their eyes to John, who stood eerily still, staring at both the boys in disbelief. To prevent another wave of awkward silence, Dean stood up from his chair as well, standing next to Sam. “That’s awesome! How about you guys settle yourselves down and we’ll just excuse ourselves for a minute.” 

 

 

Without waiting for an answer, Dean yanked Sam out of the kitchen and pulled him by the wrist down the hallway to their room.

 

 

Only when their bedroom door was firmly shut behind them did they breathe again. 

 

 

Sam tangled both his hands into his bedridden hair in frustration, causing more chaos and disarray. “Great! Now our fathers think we’re some kind of sex fiends who can’t control ourselves.” Tiredly he walked over to the bed, falling face down on to the mattress that smelled like Dean and him. Certain areas were stiff from soaking in their combined release. 

 

 

The younger man was oblivious to Dean stalking his every movement. His eyes darkened when he saw the hem of Sam’s robe ride up from his ungraceful fall to reveal the lean thighs marked all over. Some were hickey marks and others were imprints of Dean’s fingers. With stealth and poise Dean made his way to his unsuspecting prey. Sam didn’t even hear him coming. It was too late by the time he realized what was happening. With both his wrists pinned on either side of his head from behind and Dean’s muscled body pushing him down into the mattress. He was trapped.

 

 

“What the fuck Dean!? Our fathers just saw us fucking! This is the last thing we want to be doing.” 

 

 

Ignoring Sam’s indignant cries, Dean bit into the side of Sam’s neck and ground his already hard cock against the crevice of his husband’s ass. “I promise we’ll get back out there again in a minute but let me finish what we started. I’m ready to burst Sammy. Just a little taste and I promise I’ll let you go.” The older man panted hotly against Sam’s neck. He was acting like a dog in heat.

 

 

“Fuck! Stop Dean! Exercise some self-control man!” The last thing he wanted was for their fathers to hear them going at it. 

 

 

“Yeah, exercising got it…” Dean replied absent mindedly, obviously not listening to anything that was coming out of Sam’s mouth. The older man released his wrists but held him down with his body, collapsing entirely on top of him. With his free hands, he pushed the hem of the robe up above Sam’s hips to reveal the perfect twin globes. 

 

 

His hands made a quick job of opening the zipper of his jeans, pushing the offending material down till his angry red member popped out of its confines. 

 

 

When the wet mushroom head poked between his cheeks, Sam flailed his arms in panic. “No! Dean, I said self-control god damn it!” 

 

 

In a low rumble, Dean whispered against Sam’s ear, “Fuck self-control,” before thrusting inside in one powerful thrust. 

 

 

Just like that, Sam’s resolve crumbled. Dean had won again.

 

***

 

 

They never made it back to the kitchen, not until seven that night. Even then, it was Dean alone. Unfortunately, Sam couldn’t walk due to his sexed-up husband who was apparently the Energizer bunny and kept going and going and going just like the commercial. Maybe he could be the new mascot for Energizer, he certainly had the stamina for it. 

 

 

Dean had left him lying on the bed, naked and saturated in copious amounts of come, sweat and saliva, promising to give him a proper bath as soon as he retrieved some food for the both of them. Despite the open window, the room reeked with sex. So much that he could taste it on his tongue. He was determined to wash himself alone because knowing Dean, it wouldn’t end with just a bath. No, sex would take over and they would be very little bathing. However, moving, was not something he could physically manage at the moment. It was a miracle that he was still alive and breathing! Although he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, since he still had to face his father and deal with the aftermath of being not only seen but heard making love to his husband. 

 

 

He knew he was loud when it came to sex but it was all Dean’s fault. It was damn near impossible for him to keep any control or sanity when his husband knew exactly which buttons to press to make him moan, whimper, cry, beg or scream. Despite his disoriented state at the time, he distinctly remembered hearing their fathers knocking on their door a few times. Obviously, they had been too preoccupied to answer but he had heard his father shout “boys, keep it down will ya! It’s still day time for god’s sakes!” At the time, he hadn’t given a damn but now, sober and coherent, he was mortified. Just the thought of their fathers hearing everything that they had been doing had him repeatedly hitting his head into the pillows.

 

 

***

 

 

Dean happily strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune from one of the Metallica songs. He came to a stuttering halt when his eyes landed on a wary faced Bobby who was sitting at the dining table, eating a bowl of stew. 

 

 

Feeling a little awkward, he offered his father-in-law a strained smile. “Hey Bobby …” His eyes scanned the kitchen, curious as to where his father was. 

 

 

As if reading his thoughts, Bobby promptly answered. “Your dad needed to get out since it was a little noisy in the house.” 

 

 

Knowing full well where that noise had come from, Dean immediately cast his eyes downwards in guilt, his bare feet kicking imaginary rocks. He wasn’t shy about sex, but god damn it! Talking to his father-in-law about his sex life with Sam was uncomfortable to say the least. He loved, the man like his own father and the last thing he wanted to do was traumatize him. But today, even after being caught by Bobby and his father right in the middle of finger fucking Sam, he hadn’t been able to restrain himself from doing what he had done when they were back in their room. He would have expected his erection to have wilted from the encounter but the minute he had been alone with Sam, all he had been able to think about was how much he wanted to fuck him over and over. 

 

 

Slowly raising his head, he offered an apologetic smile to his father-in-law. “Uh.. Yeah… Sorry about that Bobby. I guess I missed him more then usual.”

 

 

Bobby responded with a nervous cough, raising his right hand to adjust the cap on his head. “I know this isn’t my place to ask but is everything ok with you two?” 

 

 

Dean cocked his eyebrow in question. 

 

 

Seeing the puzzled look on his son-in-law’s face, he hesitantly continued. “I mean, I know you boys get a little excited when you come back from a hunt but this time, you’ve both been locked up in your bedroom for the last three days, especially Sam. He’s already missed three days of work at the bar because I’m guessing he can’t move?” 

 

 

Dean Winchester never blushed but Bobby’s words brought a slight tinge of pink to his freckled cheeks. So the man was right. They were going at it like bunnies mainly due to his damn-near continuous urges. He couldn’t help it! Every time he went near or caught a whiff of Sam’s scent, his body reacted immediately. It felt as though he was being consumed by hellfire itself, the scorching flames licking across his skin, demanding that he fulfill his desires. Only when the heat subsided, did he come back to his senses and notice how many hours had passed since he started. Most times, he found Sam unconscious beneath him, dripping with sweat and come. It was unusual he’d admit but he was still young and he was married to a one fine specimen of a human being. It was completely natural for him to take full advantage of what was on offer when he had the chance. 

 

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “We’re fine. I think I’m just having some kind of adrenaline rush, that’s all. It was a pretty big hunt with two werewolves to track.”

 

 

His father-in-law furrowed his brows and rubbed his bearded jaw, a habit he had of doing when deep in his thoughts. “You didn’t bump into anything else by any chance while you were down in New Orleans?” 

 

 

The events of the last three weeks passed through his mind but there was nothing that stood out. Most nights he had spent in the motel room or outside, hunting the beasts down. He did go to a few bars but nothing exciting happened except for few chicks trying to get into his pants. There had been one chick, who was pretty persistent, buying him beer after beer. Her name started with an “M” and she was pretty little blond but he brushed her off. Before Sam he would have taken her and every other offers he got but now, with the prize in hand, he didn’t want anything else. 

 

 

He shook his head in the negative. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

 

Bobby visibly relaxed, releasing a small chuckle. “That’s good to hear son. I was starting to think that maybe you were hit with some voodoo or witch curse.” 

 

 

With a mock cry of indignation, Dean pointed out. “Bobby, please man, give me some credit. I’ve been hunting since I was a kid, I’m pretty sure I’d know if I’d been cursed.” 

 

 

With a soft smile, his father-in-law stood up from his chair and headed towards the stove. “True that. Now, let me get you boys some food. You both need your stamina after all the work out.”

 

 

This time, Dean managed to keep himself from turning pink. 

 

 

***

 

 

Bright light from the hallway poured into their dimly lit room. Dean walked in, holding a tray with two bowls, a plate of sliced bread and two bottles of ice-cold beer. 

 

 

Sam stirred from his dazed state and watched his husband make his way towards the bed. He could tell how relaxed Dean was from the slow swagger in his walk and the goofy smile on his face. “Hey Sammy, I got some of Bobby’s home made beef stew.”

 

 

Returning a dimpled smile, he happily replied, “About time! I’m starving.” 

 

 

With the last remaining energy, he hoisted himself up and managed to sit against the headboard, using all four pillows to support his back. Dean sat in front of him, setting the tray on the bed between them. With eager hands, Sam reached out for the bowel and dug right in with the spoon. But the minute the stew landed on his tongue, it burned the surface. He flinched in pain and Dean immediately cupped his face to have a better look at the damage. 

 

 

“Show me.”

 

 

Tilting his head back, Sam closed his eyes, opened his mouth and poked his tongue out. 

 

 

A big mistake.

 

 

Before he knew what was happening, the tray clashed to the floor beside the bed and he was being ravaged by Dean’s lips and teeth. He opened his eyes in surprise and looked down at the mess below. There were bits and pieces of ceramic and glass scattered everywhere, mixed with fizzing beer and beef stew. Again, this was an anomaly since Dean never wasted food, especially hearty home cooked meals like this. More importantly, both men were currently to the point of starvation so Dean throwing away food like that was out of question. 

 

 

Breaking their heated kiss, Sam barely managed to stutter out. “Dude! What ... What the hell is wrong with you!?”

 

 

His complaint fell on deaf ears as Dean proceeded to roughly pull him down onto the bed by his hips, the blunt nails biting into the already marred flesh. Once flat on his back, Dean ripped his own shirt and jeans off like a madman but his smoldering eyes never left Sam’s body. The younger man watched in shock as his husband forcefully spread his legs apart, holding them in place against his chest as his pitch black eyes stared hungrily at his painfully inflamed hole. It was beyond comprehension. He didn’t even have the energy to lift a limb and Dean was loaded and ready to go again. Their eyes locked and for the briefest moment, Dean hesitated but when he saw Sam’s pink tongue slip out to lick his dry lips, his libido took over. Without warning, he surged forward, not stopping till he was completely surrounded by Sam and his melting heat.

 

 

Like before, Dean plundered the scorching canal with no finesse, just wild and animalistic. Sam wrapped both his arms around Dean’s neck and held on tight as his body trembled with every piercing thrust. He arched his back and cried out Dean’s name when the older man hit his prostate dead centre. 

 

 

Fervently Dean chanted against Sam’s ear. “Sammy Sammy Sammy, I love you baby. Fuck! I want you so bad.” 

 

 

Unable to respond in coherent sentences, Sam gasped out Dean’s name and clenched his arms tighter around his husband’s neck. He was on a brink of collapsing and yet he found himself responding to Dean’s urgent thrusts, moving his hips wantonly against his husband’s. The delicious friction between his dick and the hard ridges of Dean’s stomach had his dick quickly pumping with blood. Clawing at the flexing muscles of his husband back, Sam pressed their bodies closer together than they already were, desperately begging for more. Every part of his body ached, feeling bruised and raw but he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was his release and the euphoric high that followed after. One final hit against his prostate and both Sam and Dean were coming together. The double sensation of having his come splash over his stomach and Dean’s thick release painting his insides had his body arching in a perfect bow. As his body trembled through the aftershocks, exhaustion took over, his limbs turning into dead weights. Dean was crushing him from the top with his softening dick still lodged inside him but Sam was too far gone to care. Sleep was all he wanted. Just as his mind drifted into that place between reality and the dream world, he felt Dean expand and harden once more.

 

 

He snapped his eyes open and stared up at his husband in astonishment. Balanced on his elbows, Dean stared down intently with feverish eyes. 

 

 

“More Sammy, I need more.” 

 

 

Sam gaped at him. 

 

 

It was official - Dean was going to kill him with sex.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

In the end, it was John Winchester who cracked first and hauled his son off for a possible hunt in California. Apparently, the constant chorus of creaking beds and loud groans coming from his son and his husband didn’t sit too well with him. Sam couldn’t blame him. After the three days of non-stop fucking, another four had followed and Sam was bedridden the entire time. His father had to work the bar with Ash the whole week because there was no way he could stand on his boneless legs for hours at a time, let alone walk and serve. He was pretty sure that he was going to be walking bow-legged for the rest of his life. 

 

 

The question still remained as to why Dean had become so sexually active but he couldn’t think of any viable answer except that his husband was really, really happy to see him. The culprit himself had attributed his new-found libido to pent-up energy still remaining from his last hunt. Eventually, Dean did get his inner beast under control as the week passed, not continuously ravaging Sam every time he saw him. When the time had come for him to leave with John, he had been much calmer, almost in a Zen-like state and had left with a chaste kiss (surprisingly no ass groping had been involved while they kissed goodbye). 

 

 

What was even stranger were the changes he was experiencing with his body since Dean left with John for the hunt. He was having hot flushes at random moments, his body constantly tired despite the ample quantity of rest he had after Dean had left, vomiting when he smelled any kind of greasy food and cravings for weird combinations of food he would never have contemplated before. Pickled cucumber and honey was his favorite, followed by sour cream and Oreos, then canned sardine with whipped cream. When his father stumbled onto the scene while Sam was having a midnight snack in the kitchen, he came to a stuttering halt. Sam was embarrassed that he was discovered but he couldn’t figure out why his father was staring at him like the day he had walked in on him and Dean in the kitchen. Tilting his head in question, Sam asked. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

 

 

Bobby shook out of his catatonic state and rushed forward to his son, who was sitting at the dining table. He kneeled in front of him, concern and worry etched into his face. “Son, are you feeling ok these day? Are you experiencing anything unusual?”

 

 

Still at a loss as to what his father was fussing about, he answered truthfully. “I have been having hot flushes here and there, some vomiting and weird cravings but other than that, I’m fine. Dad, what’s this about?”

 

 

The lines on Bobby’s face deepened upon hearing Sam’s revelation. His father only looked this serious when he was researching supernatural creatures. His father wasn’t a hunter himself but had read quiet a lot of texts about the supernatural to assist his wife on her hunts. Now, he was known by the hunting community as the walking talking encyclopedia of anything supernatural. It wasn’t rare for hunters to drift by to the “Roadhouse”, seeking for his help.

 

 

Nervous, Sam braced himself for the worst when his father took both of his hands into his own and stared directly into his eyes. “Sam, I think you might be pregnant son.” 

 

 

Now it was Sam’s turn to stare wide-eyed back at his father in shock. After few minutes of deathly silence, Sam snapped out of his stupor and laughed. “Dad, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a guy. I can’t get pregnant. It’s anatomically impossible.”

 

 

This was obviously a way for his father to get back at him for the kitchen incident. But his brief moment of relief was cut short by his father’s next words.

 

 

“Not if some kind of spell or a demon was involved.”

 

 

Sam’s face paled into a shade of light green. 

 

 

“That would explain Dean’s uncontrollable urges while he was here.”

 

 

He could feel his stomach revolting against the packet of Oreos and a tub of sour cream he had just consumed.

 

 

“Listen to me carefully son, your mother had the exact same cravings when she was pregnant with you. Pickled cucumber and honey was her favorite.”

 

 

Unable to listen to another word, Sam ran out of the kitchen in search for the toilet. 

 

 

No matter what anyone said, he was NOT pregnant!

 

 

The End


	3. Prequel - How You and Me Became "Us" 1/4

  
Author's notes: **A/N:** This is the prequel to "Give Me A Tall Drink Of Sammy". This establishes how Sam and Dean came together. This part includes Sam 5 and Dean 9, Sam 7 and Dean 11. This part beta'd by kiraynn.  


* * *

***

 

 

Sam Singer met his nemesis at the age of five, when John Winchester drifted into his father’s bar with his nine year old son Dean by his side. They had come looking for his father; although not a hunter himself, Bobby had become deeply involved with the realm of the supernatural ever since meeting his late wife Evelyn, who had been a hunter. 

 

 

Ironically, it wasn’t the supernatural that had taken her life, but the birth of her son. The only memory Sam had of his mother's face was from the old photos that his father kept safely inside an antique jewelry box. Even in his still young mind, he could appreciate his mother’s beauty; her heart-shaped face framed by long, wavy chestnut hair that flowed down below her shoulders and her cat-like hazel green eyes that seemed fierce and passionate, yet delicate at the same time. His father would often cuddle him at night before bed, telling him how much she had cherished Sam even when he was still in her womb. He told him tales about her hunts as bedtime stories, so that Sam never missed his mother. Not really.

 

 

His father’s bar, the “Roadhouse” became a safe haven for hunters after he’d married Sam’s mom. Most hunters were like nomads as they never stayed in one place, and were often wanted by the authorities due to their odd jobs that landed them on the wrong side of the law. The Roadhouse offered one constant to these outcasts of society. 

 

 

Sam could tell that his father prided in being able to help those just like his mother, who’d saved people’s lives every day without recognition or reward. Hunters also came seeking his father’s knowledge and wisdom which he had gained from all of his studies in ancient literatures of demons, magic, and mythology. 

 

 

Really, anything supernatural related. 

 

 

That was what brought John Winchester to his father. A gruff looking man dressed in thick leather jacket, a worn grey t-shirt and crumply jeans that showed signs of long hours spent in the car driving. His smiles were genuine enough but behind the pleasant façade, Sam could see his keen eyes critically analyzing his dad as they shook hands. The rigid muscles in his shoulders never loosened his body on constant alert of his surroundings. They were all the hallmarks of a hunter. Sam wasn’t intimidated by the intense gaze John directed at him as he ruffled his messy curls in greeting. After all, he had seen countless number of hunters pass through his dad’s bar wearing exactly the same look. A look that said, the only thing they knew and lived for was being a hunter. What he wasn’t used to seeing was a hunter with a child. Alone was the usual mode of operation for them, preferring not to be tied down by a family. A wise choice since their lives were unpredictable. So Sam was definitely intrigued by Dean, a son of a hunter just like him. 

 

 

The way he stood and held himself next to his dad, confident and aware already indicated he was a hunter in the making. He tried to contain his curiosity and sat stoic still as the older boy settled next to him while their dad’s made their way into the back office.

 

 

Sam was not the most talkative child. He was shy and rarely warmed to strangers on his first meeting, especially with kids older than himself. But this was the exception. He was just itching to find a way to start a conversation with the boy next to him but having no clue as to how to begin. He settled for staring at the half-eaten hamburger, made with secret spices that his dad only knew, hoping to find an answer there. No such luck. 

 

 

Wanting to catch a better glimpse of the boy next to him, Sam turned his head to the side in a subtle manner. The boy was dressed in a dark olive green over shirt with a black t-shirt underneath and dark blue jeans with faded patches on the knees from wear. The spiky blond hair with sun bleached tips was in total disarray, but somehow it still managed to look cool. 

 

 

A spike of envy shot through Sam. When his hair was tangled and in a complete mess, it was far from cool. More like a bird’s nest as his dad often joked. The older boy chose that exact moment to turn toward him, catching him right in the act of blatantly staring. Sam froze like a deer caught in headlights. The piercing green eyes bore into him, looking a little cold, distant and so much older than his age. Now seeing the other boy’s face properly, he could tell he was what the girls would call “a cutie”. Strong jaw, sharp cheekbones with full lips, thick eyelashes and a scattering of light freckles across his nose and cheeks. 

 

 

The blond-haired boy smirked at him and raised his eyebrow in question. “Have I got something on my face, kid?”

 

 

The younger boy recoiled, clearly offended. “I’m not a kid! I can already tie my shoelaces and go to sleep alone,” the older boy didn’t need to know that he had to have a bright nightlight on in order to sleep, “and my name is Sam, Sam Singer.” He stuck out his chin in a so-there! pose. 

 

 

Dean Winchester chuckled, amused by the kid’s reaction. He could tell that he was younger by maybe three or four years give or take. The kid was small, but the oversized hoodie and baggy jeans made him look even tinier; it was difficult to see his eyes through the floppy bangs hanging low in front, but he could still vaguely tell that they were one of the many shades of green. There were still some breadcrumbs from the burger on the corner of his frowning lips and his cheeks were flushed with anger. 

 

 

His father had already briefed him on the bar owner and why they were there to meet him, to shed some light on what had exactly killed his mother. Bobby Singer was apparently an expert on supernatural beings and had become involved in the world of hunting through his deceased wife, a hunter herself. What he hadn’t expected was to be left entertaining the son, a little subdued boy quietly eating his burger at the bar counter. He seemed a little dull and too introverted for Dean’s liking but the fact that they were both sons of hunters did have him interested in the boy. But, not enough to start a conversation with him. That view did a drastic 180 when the boy lashed back at him with a fight that he had thought he didn’t possess. Other kids didn’t talk to him like that. They usually loved him wherever he went, thanks to his cunning ability to work the crowd. With girls, he smoothed talked his way into their hearts and with guys, he’d earn their respect by showing off his top-notch athleticism (thanks to his dad’s intensive physical training regiment). Being able to fight properly also made sure that kids who were stupid enough to try and push him around would never try it again. Until now, Dean had never encountered anyone who wasn’t acting like his best friend the second they met. So Sam’s reaction was refreshing. 

 

 

For the first time in his life, Dean had the urge to do the friending first.

 

 

Offering his right hand to Sam, he gave a lazy grin. “Well Sammy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester.” 

 

 

The younger boy noticed the change in the other boy’s demeanor, his eyes softening significantly and his smile more genuine than before. 

 

 

He wiped his chubby hands on his jeans and offered his right hand. The verdict was still out on whether he wanted to be friends with someone who saw him as a kid and worse, who had called him by his taboo nickname, “Sammy”. His dad was the only person who he forgave for calling him that; for a five year old, it just sounded too juvenile. 

 

 

Dean clasped the offered hand and pulled the smaller boy closer, his left hand coming to Sam’s mouth and brushing off the bread crumbs with his thumb.

 

 

“There you go Sammy, all clean.” The older boy smiled down at him, his eyes playful and bright.

 

 

Sam pulled back abruptly. The verdict was in, he officially didn’t like Dean Winchester! Not only did he just wipe his mouth like his dad does when he makes a mess of himself while eating, but he called him “Sammy” twice in a row!

 

 

Huffing and puffing in irritation, Sam snatched his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. “It’s Sam not Sammy!” 

 

 

Just to make his point clear, he poked his tongue out at Dean who was bewildered, but still very intrigued by the younger boy. 

 

 

Little did Sam know that on that day, he had not only met his nemesis but his future husband to be. 

 

 

***

 

The next time he was reunited with Dean Winchester, he was seven, delirious from fever and barely conscious enough to acknowledge his presence. 

 

 

How he came to be so sick was a chilling affair that still traumatized him to this day. 

 

 

It had been a cold autumn day telling of the winter that was fast approaching. 

 

 

The last thing he wanted to do was walk through the forest that his father specifically forbade him to enter after the disappearance of two children in the last two months, but Tommy Welsh and Kevin Macintyre had made sure he did by chasing after him after school, threatening to beat him up. 

 

 

Somewhere along the way, he had lost the bullies in the maze of bushes but soon discovered he was lost too. He aimlessly walked through the park that was darkening quickly as thick storm clouds gathered above him, turning the blue sky grey and sinister. The rain poured down like someone had emptied a bucket full of water and he instinctively ran for cover but came to a stand still when a teenage boy appeared before him from nowhere. 

 

 

From first sight, he knew something wasn’t right with the boy. His nudity was a dead give away. But he didn’t seem to care that he was getting drenched or being watched by Sam. It was strange to think of another boy as beautiful but that was the only word that came to mind when he was met with a pair of steel blue eyes, small heart shaped face framed by waves of jet black hair cascading down his sharp shoulders right down to his slim waist. He would have mistaken him for a girl if it hadn’t been for the undressed state. His instinct told him to run as far away as possible but his body was frozen in place. When the teenager gestured for him to follow, his body obediently walked to the boy and before long, he found himself hip deep in the freezing lake water. The boy turned around to give him a menacing smile before vanishing. 

 

 

The trance was broken and Sam quickly headed for the shore, moving his numb limbs as fast as he could. Two steps was all he managed before a hand grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him down under; the piercing stabs of ice cold water paralyzed his body and knocked his breath right out of his lungs. Frantically, he moved his arms and legs to get away, but the iron grip never loosened its hold. With lack of air supply and his muscles seizing from the cold; his movement turned sluggish and weak as time passed. Slowly, his mind drifted into the welcoming darkness as his vision blurred. 

 

 

That’s when he felt the dead weight around his ankle miraculously disappear to be replaced by a pair of strong arms around his chest, holding him close to a sturdy frame behind him. He was propelled to the surface and in seconds, his lungs were filled with the much needed air he had been denied. Aching all over and drained from the ordeal, he blacked out before they reached the shore.

 

 

The next time he came to, he was lying in his bed with a high temperature and no sense of time or place. All he could see were swirls of dark grayish colors with no defined shapes. There were voices going in and out of his ear but none of them made any sense. The only constant throughout the days and nights as he lay restlessly from the fever, was the warm hands that cocooned his.

 

 

Sam knew it wasn’t his father’s hands because they weren’t as big or as rough as his, but they were still bigger than his own and the pads were slightly calloused. Sometimes the hand moved to gently caress his cheek or push back the sweaty bangs matted his forehead; every time he awoke screaming from the nightmare of being swallowed by the chilling darkness of the lake, a hand would soothingly massage his chest while the other would hold his hand tight.

 

 

After five days of wandering between consciousness and unconsciousness, Sam finally opened his eyes to find Captain Planet staring down at him from the ceiling. There was a warm glow in the room as the midday sun filtered through the open window. His head immediately turned to his left, where he had expected to find the person who had been constantly by his side. Instead, he found his father sleeping somewhat awkwardly in the wooden chair. 

 

 

When Bobby heard the rustling of sheets as his son gingerly lifted himself to sit up, he woke immediately. 

 

 

With a relieved smile, he moved to sit next to his son on the bed. Carefully, he gathered his boy into his arms and hugged the life out of him. “Thank god you’re okay, Sammy. I thought I was going to lose you there for a minute.” He couldn’t disguise the tremor in his voice. 

 

 

Sam rested his small head on his father’s shoulder and breathed out tiredly, “I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to go into the forest but Tommy and Kevin chased me after school, and then this boy appeared and he…” The tiny voice shook as he remembered how he had almost lost his life.

 

 

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” his father replied reassuringly, his giant hand gently rubbing his back.

 

 

When his breathing finally evened out, Sam quietly asked, “was he a ghost, daddy?” He wasn’t well versed in the world of supernatural but he knew what ghosts were from his father’s stories, even if this had been the first time he had seen it with his own eyes.

 

 

Releasing his son from his hold, Bobby laid the small boy on his bed again and pulled the duvet up to his chin. “No son, it was a demon called Ala. It’s known to produce hail-inducing thunderstorms to destroy or loot crops from orchards and vineyards. Children are another delicacy they enjoy very much.” He grimly stated. “It finds nest in various location but lake is the most common. Since that park has a nice big one and so closely located to your school, it must have settled itself there.” It was lucky the demon had stuck to it’s specific pattern of taking a child on the last day of each month or the Winchesters wouldn’t have gotten there in time to save his son.

 

 

Sam owlishly blinked a few times, shocked to hear that he had faced off against a demon. 

 

 

“John Winchester… Do you remember him and his son, Sammy?” his father questioned. 

 

 

Sam nodded in response. Of course he remembered them; Dean Winchester was his nemesis.

 

 

“Well, they were the ones who saved you, son. I tipped them off about the possible hunt. They were both heading towards the lake, expecting the demon to appear today. They saw you being dragged under and Dean rescued you while his father exorcised it.”

 

 

Large, rough hands cupped the side of his pale face, heating the skin beneath with the tender touch. With a fond smile, his father continued, “the kid even stayed by your side night and day, refusing to sleep anywhere but beside you. He’s a stubborn one, just like his father.”

 

 

Sam couldn’t believe his ears. Not only had Dean a.k.a. Arch Nemesis saved him from drowning but had been the owner of the hands that had grounded him through his nightmares. But why wasn’t he there now, sitting next to him? Surely, he would have stayed until he knew that Sam was okay after all the effort.

 

 

Reading the scramble of emotions on his sons face, his father responded with a regretful smile. “Sorry, son. John found another job in California so they left last night. Dean wanted to stay but when duty calls, duty calls.” 

 

 

A pout formed on his son’s lips, the puppy dog frown set firmly in place. That’s how Evelyn had looked whenever she was genuinely upset. Bobby softly stroked his son’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Sammy. I’m sure they’ll be dropping by again soon.” 

 

 

There was still a slight pout on his lips but his son nodded in understanding.

 

 

Bobby had to admit, he hadn’t expected the Winchester boy to passionately plead with his father to extend their stay until Sam woke. What he knew of the boy from their brief encounters was that he was a disciplined child with full control over his emotions. When he and his father first set foot into his bar two years ago, Dean had given him a calculated once over before courteously nodding his head to acknowledge him. He then sat by the bar and waited patiently for his father, knowing exactly what to do without being told. Even when Bobby offered the boy a milkshake after his meeting with John, he declined, his guarded mask never faltering. So seeing him go against his father’s words and openly showing his emotions seemed out of character. 

 

 

Judging by John’s raised eyebrows, it was something he wasn’t used to either. In the end, his father had won Dean over by arguing that innocent lives were at stake and that every second counted. Both the Winchesters had learnt the hard way of how quickly a life can be lost when something supernatural was involved. Sam was safe now but there were others that needed saving. The reluctant boy had left with slumped shoulders, every so often giving a longing glance back to the house until he was packed into the Impala.

 

 

For Bobby, it was baffling to see Dean’s strong attachment to Sam, especially when the boys had only met once before. He couldn’t blame him, though. The Winchesters moved from one place to another, never giving the boy the opportunity to form any meaningful friendships with anyone his age. Just like his father, Dean was a lone wolf. It was only natural for a boy so young to unconsciously seek someone he could connect with, someone he didn’t have to say goodbye to. Obviously, Sam was that someone.

 

 

Seeing his son’s heavy lids drift closed, Bobby stood up from the bed and leaned down to lightly kiss his forehead. “I’ll get you something to eat but you sleep for now, son.” The sleepy boy responded with a snuffle and snuggled deeper into the pillows.

 

 

Sleep was approaching fast but Sam’s foggy mind recalled the green-eyed boy who’d called him “Sammy” and had playfully swiped his mouth of breadcrumbs. Strangely enough, he didn’t find it as outrageous as he had back then. Probably because Dean had saved his life or maybe because he was getting older and small things like that didn’t bother him anymore. 

 

 

As a seven year old, he was mature enough to overlook Dean’s fumbling of the past. In their next meeting, he was going to make sure he thanked the older boy for what he had done. He was pretty sure saving a life was somewhere up there with giving up the last piece of cake to another kid, so it definitely warranted a “thank you”.

 

 

And maybe, just maybe, he could consider becoming friends with him if, and only if, Dean remembered to call him “Sam”.

 

 

TBC


End file.
